


20 Days of Chub: Unintentional Weight Gain

by Star_Sniper



Series: 20 Days of Chub: Eren/Armin [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Belly Kink, Chubby!Eren, Food Kink, M/M, Modern AU, Stuffing, Weight Gain, Weight Gain Kink, stuffing kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 03:51:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6314257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_Sniper/pseuds/Star_Sniper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eren and Armin move in together, Eren realises that his boyfriend really is quite a talented cook. </p><p>[20 Days of Chub taken from the <a href="http://iwritetheweirdstuff.tumblr.com/post/131390268767/20-days-of-chub-kink">20 Days of Chub Challenge.</a>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	20 Days of Chub: Unintentional Weight Gain

It wasn't until he moved in with Armin that Eren realised his boyfriend could cook. 

“What other secret talents are you hiding from me?” Eren sat at the kitchen island that separated the open-plan kitchen and living room, watching as Armin hovered over the stove, “Can you sing? Dance? Are you actually _really_ good at sports and you only pretend to be bad in order to make me feel better?” He grinned mischievously as Armin shot him a slightly peeved look over his shoulder. “Sorry. Couldn't resist. But that really does smell good.” He inhaled deeply as if to prove his point, and his stomach growled with anticipation at the rich and savoury smell. 

“It's not really anything special,” Armin insisted as he picked up a frying pan to shift the contents with a satisfying sizzle, “Just breakfast.” 

Eren propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes following Armin as he moved from the counter to the refrigerator, then back to the stove once again. Armin was adorably prepared for cooking, he had smoothed his chin length hair back into a small ponytail, and he was wearing an actual apron over the top of his pyjamas. The blond made cooking look effortless. He mixed eggs with one hand, only setting them down for a split second to tend to the gently hissing sausages on the stove. He then sprinkled a pinch of pepper into the egg mixture, before whisking the fork around to mix it in. When two slices of toast popped out of the toaster, Armin didn't even bat an eyelid at the sudden noise, while Eren almost slipped sideways off his stool in surprise. 

“Just breakfast,” Eren repeated with a shake of his head as Armin finally set down a plate in front of him, his mouth already starting to water, “Ahh, Armin, this looks amazing!” 

The plate was heaped with all manner of breakfast items, Eren didn't know where to start. A pile of scrambled eggs was heaped close to the edge of the plate, two fat sausages gleaming next to it. Crisp rashers of bacon curled against two pieces of toast, the nub of butter just starting to soak down into the bread. Eren stabbed the tines of his fork down into a sausage, dipped the end of it into the soft scrambled eggs, and bought it up to his mouth. There was an explosion of flavours as he bit into it, the meaty rich flavour of the sausage complemented by the milder, yet peppery taste of the eggs. He chewed and swallowed with a longing sigh, already dipping the chewed end of his sausage back down into the scrambled eggs. 

“If you want more, there's some left over,” Armin hopped up onto the stool next to Eren, his own breakfast consisting of just a toasted bacon sandwich, “Just help yourself.” 

By the time that Eren was scraping up the last few dregs of scrambled eggs, he was starting to feel full. He swallowed the last mouthful, before setting down his fork with a light clatter of metal against china. He licked his lips, able to taste the salty bite of bacon lingering on them, and picked up the mug of gently steaming coffee that Armin had set down for him. He took a swig, and over the rim of his mug he could see Armin placing the leftovers onto another plate. Another helping of scrambled eggs, not quite as large as the one he had been served. Two more sausages. A few more rashers of bacon. Eren's stomach churned underneath his t-shirt, reminding him that he had already packed a considerable amount of food into it that morning. 

“You want this?” Armin asked, holding the plate out to Eren with a sweet smile, “It's still warm.” 

Inwardly marvelling at how beautiful Armin looked with his hair tied back, Eren made a mental note to ask him to wear it up a little more often, Eren found himself reaching for the plate before his mind could catch up to what his body was doing. He stared at the small breakfast hungrily, and picked up his fork to twist a rasher of bacon around the tines. He tilted the fork to the side to add a small scattering of scrambled eggs onto the bacon, and shoved the entire forkful between his lips. 

“You're the best, you know that?” Eren mumbled through his mouthful of egg and back, “This is amazing!”

“I'm glad that you enjoyed it,” Armin dropped a handful of cutlery into the washing up bowl to soak, before turning his full attention back to Eren, his blue eyes shining with delight, “I've always wanted to cook for you. I just never had the chance to.”

“So when did you learn how to cook?” Eren picked up the next rasher of bacon with his fingers, tearing a strip out of it with his teeth, “I mean, I always knew you liked baking, but I didn't know that extended to really amazing cooked breakfasts as well.”

“Grandfather taught me when I was little. I'm only as good as I am because I was taught by the best.” Armin leant down on the opposite side of the kitchen island with a smile, his elbows resting against the tiled counter-top, “Wow. You really were hungry, weren't you?” 

“Actually I'm feeling a little full,” Eren admitted sheepishly as he finished off the last of the bacon with a crunch, “But I can't stop eating.” He licked the remnants of bacon grease from his fingers, and leant across the counter to press a warm kiss to Armin's lips. He grinned on seeing the faint blush dust across Armin's cheeks, he loved that he could still make the blond blush so easily. “Really, Armin. I think you might have a gift.” 

“Going on just one cooked breakfast?” Armin laughed, his eyes creasing, “I'm flattered. Though it does mean that I have some pretty high standards to live up to. Maybe I should start planning for dinner now?” 

“You're-” Eren almost choked on a mouthful of sausage, and forced himself to swallow it before continuing to speak, “- gonna make dinner too?” 

“Eren,” Armin smiled across the counter at him, his rounded cheeks dimpling, “Of course I am. Breakfast, dinner. Lunch whenever you're home from work. It just makes sense, doesn't it?” he shrugged a small shoulder, a few strands of hair escaping from his ponytail. “Besides, I'm the one working from home. It doesn't seem fair to expect you to throw something together when you get home.”

“That,” Eren gave a self deprecating laugh, “And I can't cook for shit. I definitely can't cook anywhere near as well as you can.”

“That too,” Armin admitted with a coy smile, “I was trying to avoid mentioning that.” He pushed himself up from the counter, rolling the sleeves of his long-sleeved pyjama top up past his bony elbows. “I'll wash if you dry?” he turned towards the sink, apron strings swinging, “After you're finished eating, of course.” Eren made a small noise of agreement as he chewed his way through the remaining sausage. Really, he was a little too clumsy for either task. At least if Armin was the one on dish-washing duty, it meant that he could clean the dishes to his own incredibly high standards.

Eren found himself struggling as he forced the last forkful of scrambled eggs past his lips. He grimaced as he climbed down from the stool, his stomach actually felt a little bloated from the sheer amount of food he had packed into it. Eren carried his plate with one hand, his other rubbing tenderly against his side, and padded across the kitchen floor to join Armin at the sink. He leant across Armin to drop his dirty plate and cutlery into the frothy depths of the washing up bowl, before yanking the neatly folded dish-towel from the wooden pole that served as it's holder. 

“You, uh, look a little full,” Armin noted delicately, his eyes dropping to Eren's midsection, “Did you really like my food that much?” He held out a soapy plate to Eren, who took it with a dish-towel covered hand. 

“You better believe that I did,” Eren rubbed the corner of the cloth over the face of the plate, wiping away every last trace of bubbles, “But you know what's really bad? I'm just about fit to burst, but if you set another breakfast down in front of me right now?” he pulled open one of the overhead cupboards, only to close the door again on seeing that it was filled with jugs and containers rather than plates and dishes, “I'd eat it. Without a doubt.”

“Plates go in the top left one,” Armin responded automatically, busying himself by scrubbing the grease-smeared frying pan, “I'm flattered. I really am,” he looked over at Eren with a smile, that sweet, warm smile that made Eren's heart flutter, “You should be careful. You know what they say about being in a relationship and gaining weight because you get comfortable.”

“Yeah, well,” Eren pulled open the cupboard to the right of him, his brow furrowing on seeing boxes and tins, “Top lef-, oh,” he closed the door again, and reached over for the cupboard to the _left_ , “You know what they say about skinny cooks and not trusting them?” he looked down at Armin with a raised eyebrow, “We know that one isn't true, don't we?” 

Armin laughed, and once Eren had placed the plate safely into the designated cupboard, he threw a handful of bubbles at him. Eren spun on his heel with a playful growl and pinned Armin back against the sink. With his prey caught, and pinned in place by his taut and muscular form, Eren leant down to steal kiss after kiss from Armin's inviting lips. 

\------

“Do you always have to fucking show off, Yeager?” Jean muttered darkly as Eren made a show of pulling out his boxed lunch from the break-room fridge, “We get it. You have a cute boyfriend who makes you lunches that smell and look amazing. You don't need to rub it in.” Eren grinned as he lifted the lid off of the Tupperware container, even when cold the leftover curry and rice managed to both look, and smell, appealing. He glanced down at the instructions that Armin had written neatly on the top of the lid, before shoving the container into the microwave. He punched in the numbers, as always having to push down on the '3' extra hard in order to get it to register, and hit the worn and faded 'cook' button. 

“It's hardly my fault that Armin happens to be cute _and_ an amazing cook,” Eren bragged as he leant back against the counter, the microwave humming softly behind him as it heated his food, “No need to be jealous, Kirstein. Marco is plenty cute too,” he grinned a little as he watched his taller co-worker retrieve his own lunch, a pre-packaged sandwich from the local corner shop, “He's just not as talented in the kitchen as Armin is.” 

“Shove it, Yeager,” Jean peeled open his lunch, wrinkling the bridge of his nose as he retrieved one of the limp looking sandwiches, “You're still in the honeymoon period, you know. How long have you been living together now? Two months?”

“Two and a half,” Eren corrected, “Armin kept count. We moved in ten weeks ago last Saturday. Or something like that,” he shook his head, “He's better at keeping track of that sort of stuff than I am.” He could smell the delicious scent of his curry as it began to heat up, his stomach growling in anticipation; he had really enjoyed it the first time around. 

“Yeah, well, enjoy it while it lasts,” Jean dropped down onto the low couch that had been pushed underneath the window, one lanky leg draped over the other, “Who'd of thought that someone like Armin was a good cook? He's tiny.” He took a large bite out of his sandwich, and began chewing thoughtfully. “Though it is starting to show,” he looked pointedly across the break-room at Eren, “You want to be careful. It's getting pretty obvious that you're getting three decent meals a day. When did you last hit the gym?”

Eren looked upwards in thought. While he had never been a gym nut like Jean, he had tried to go at least a few times a week. But his visits had dwindled ever since he had gotten a full-time job, and had almost stopped completely when he had moved in with Armin. It wasn't that he didn't have the time, with a nine-to-five job he had his evenings and weekends free for workouts, it was more that he would rather spend the time at home. With Armin. He _could_ have gotten up an hour earlier to get some exercise in before going to work, but that meant an hour less in bed with an adorable blond snuggled into his side. He might have been able to spare a Saturday morning to lift some weights, but then he wouldn't get to go to the supermarket with Armin, a chore that always felt so delightfully domestic. 

“Uhh... I registered at the gym around the corner from our place,” Eren murmured out loud, tapping his fingers against the underside of his chin, “That was about a week after we moved in. I went to the gym on the Sunday because Armin was going to the farmer's market, and I met him afterwards. So,” his lips moved as he counted the weeks down on his fingers, “Uhh, about nine weeks ago?” It surprised him to hear it out loud, he had never gone that long without going to the gym before. Somehow the weeks had just flown by without him realising it. 

“Figures,” Jean snorted, reaching backwards to grab the mug of coffee he had set down on the window sill, “No wonder you're getting a gut.”

“I am _not_ ,” Eren protested, before looking down at himself, at the round curve of his stomach that was just starting to pull at the thin cotton of his shirt, “It's hardly a gut,” he backtracked, sheepishly prodding at his stomach with his finger, “Isn't it natural to gain a little weight when you're in a relationship? Something about settling down and being comfortable?” He was grateful when the _ping_ of the microwave saved him from having to make any further excuses, and turned around to retrieve his lunch.

“A few pounds is forgiveable,” Jean pointed out, setting his mug down and pulling the second half of his sandwich out of it's package, “But that's more than a few pounds. More like twenty.” 

“If you're trying to make me feel bad about my delicious lunch, then it isn't gonna work,” Eren sat down at the Formica topped table, placing his Tupperware container of steaming curry in front of him, “Because I'm still going to eat every last bit of it.” He produced a fork, and carefully heaped a helping of rice and curry onto it. He raised it to his mouth, making a point of keeping eye contact with Jean the entire time, before eating it. He sighed contentedly as the spicy curry hit his tongue, the succulent chunks of meat contrasting with the slightly tough grains of rice. While it wasn't quite as nice as it had been when it had been freshly cooked, it was still nothing short of wonderful. Eren smirked at Jean as he swallowed a second mouthful, an eyebrow cocked in silent challenge. 

“You go ahead and keep stuffing your face,” Jean crumpled up the empty sandwich packet with a sharp crinkle of plastic, “Don't come crying to me when you're too fat to see your feet.” He threw the ball of crushed plastic overhand, and smirked as it landed neatly into the bin half-way across the room. Eren cursed between mouthfuls, just once he wanted Jean to miss. He shrugged a shoulder in response to Jean's threat, and scraped the side of his fork along the edges of the container, making certain that he was going to get every last bit of curry that he could. 

“You and Marco still coming over Saturday?” Eren muttered around a forkful of food, he still couldn't understand why Armin insisted on being friends with Jean, “Because you don't have to. I wouldn't want you to worry about gaining any weight from eating Armin's delicious food or anything.” 

“Nah, we're still coming,” Jean smirked a little as he stood up from the couch, his coffee mug dangling precariously from his thin fingers, “I've got to see just how good he is for myself. I mean, he's got to be pretty damn good if you've ended up with a gut like _that_.” He prodded Eren's bulging stomach with his finger as he passed him, Eren snarled mid-chew, and slapped his hand away. 

“Bite me, Kirstein,” Eren grumbled, as Jean rinsed out his coffee mug in the sink, “Jealousy doesn't suit you.” He was quickly coming to the end of his meal, much to his disappointment, yet he still didn't feel completely satisfied. The leftovers were getting smaller as of late, Eren assumed it was down to the fact that Armin was getting better at managing his portion control. The blond ate very little in comparison to Eren himself, and he was probably making less for their evening meals to compensate for it. Probably. Eren scooped the last few dregs of sauce and rice onto the base of his fork, and swallowed them with a wistful sigh. 

“You can't possibly be hungry,” Jean rolled his eyes as Eren pushed past him towards the vending machine, “Really? You're going to stuff your face with chocolate after eating all of that? Does Armin know that you supplement his lovingly home-cooked meals with junk food?”

“No,” Eren admitted as he rummaged around in his pocket, pulling out a handful of loose change, “It just seems like there's less leftovers lately. I'm guessing that Armin finally twigged that he doesn't really eat that much, so he's started making less for dinner?” He peered through the glass front of the machine, looking at the rows of brightly coloured candy bars. On finding one that he liked the look of, he began to feed coin after coin into the slot. 

“Or,” Jean began wearily, “There's less leftovers because there's simply not as much food left _over_ at the end of the meal.” 

“What I said,” Eren crouched to retrieve his candy bar, wincing slightly at how the waistband of his pants bit into his fleshy side, “Armin's not making as much food, so there's not as much food left for my lunch the next day. It's not _rocket science_.”

“For fucks sake,” Jean sighed, and ran a hand down his face, “Yaeger. Armin isn't making less food. _You're_ just eating more of the food, so there's less left over at the end. Are you really this dense, or are you just acting like it to piss me off?”

“Huh,” Eren murmured around his mouthful of chocolate, “You might have a point there.” His appetite had certainly increased lately, he supposed that it went hand in hand with the weight he had gained. He could even eat more than he used to; Armin's evening meals and desserts had once left him bloated and unable to move, but now he was left with the feeling that he could probably manage a little more if he really wanted to. Sometimes he had found himself peering through the cupboards and fridge, looking for something to tide him over. Really, Eren realised mid-chew, it was surprising that there was any leftovers for him at all. 

“Armin must have the patience of a saint when it comes to putting up with you,” Jean decided with a shake of his head, “What does he have to say about all of this?” he dropped his gaze pointedly to Eren's protruding stomach, “Let me guess. He's all,” he took his voice up a couple of pitches in a poor imitation of Armin's soft tone, “'It doesn't matter what you look like to me, Eren.' 'I love you no matter what, Eren.' Whatever did you do to end up with someone like him, huh?”

“You know,” Eren began slowly, his brow furrowing gently, “He... hasn't mentioned it. Not at all.”

\-----  
Dinner that night had been a rich smelling chicken stew that night, paired with home-made bread rolls. Eren's stomach was bigger than he had ever seen it before, it protruded out from underneath his t-shirt in a way that made him look pregnant. He had been determined to eat every last bit of stew, just to see if Armin would say anything. It had been difficult, and he had struggled when it came to eating his sixth bread roll, but somehow he had made sure that not so much as a single drop was left. His belly actually felt a little sore for his efforts, Eren rubbed the side of it tenderly as he sat down on the edge of his and Armin's bed, but at the same time he didn't regret it.

Even if Armin hadn't said anything on seeing that there was nothing left over. Eren led back on the bed, shuffling up the mattress so that he could lean against the headboard. His stomach gurgled softly from the motion, and Eren found himself petting it soothingly in an attempt to keep it quiet. Armin was still in the bathroom, Eren could hear the sound of running water and meticulous teeth brushing, and he _still_ hadn't commented about Eren's, now rather obvious, weight gain. Eren sighed as he reached for his tablet, the screen flaring to life with a light press of the 'on' button. It meant that he would just have to ask Armin what he thought about his weight gain straight out. No matter how awkward it might be. 

Absorbed in catching up on the latest sports results, Eren barely felt the mattress dip next to him as Armin slipped into bed. The blankets shifted as the blond moved himself, from his side of the bed, to Eren's. A pale arm curled about Eren's own, a head of blond hair settling against his shoulder. Eren swallowed heavily as Armin nuzzled against his tanned skin, while his extra pounds had mostly gone to his stomach, he had noticed himself getting a little softer all over. Armin didn't make any indication that he had felt anything out of the ordinary, and Eren dropped his gaze back to his tablet screen. 

He nearly jumped a mile on feeling Armin's arm slip across his bloated stomach. 

“Oh!” Armin pulled back, his blue eyes widening, “I'm sorry. Did that hurt?” 

“No,” Eren responded with a quick shake of his head, his mind still reeling from how _good_ that cool and soft skin had felt against his distended belly, “I uhh... I just wanted to ask you something.” He set his tablet down on the bedside table, his full attention now focused on Armin. The blond was watching him with a slightly confused look. Armin's pyjama top was a little too large for him, the neckline had slipped to reveal the gentle curve of his collarbone, but Eren could still trace the contours of the blond's lean form underneath the flannel. “Does it,” he began again at long last, “Does it... bother you that I'm fat?” 

“You're not fat, Eren,” Armin replied, his brow furrowing slightly, “Not at all.”

“Well, maybe not,” Eren conceded sheepishly, “But I'm not far off it, right? As Kirstein so kindly put it, I'm not _quite_ as trim as I once was. And given that I'm getting lazy, and you're an amazing cook, I might end up bigger. You've never said anything about it so,” he exhaled shakily, surprised to find that he was trembling a little, “Did you even notice? Or is Kirstein just making me paranoid? And, what _do_ you really think about me putting on a a few pounds?” 

“Eren,” Armin smiled, and reached across to clasp one of Eren's shaking hands between his smaller ones, “I did notice. No offence, but it would be hard not to notice. I spend every day with you now.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb reassuringly over the back of Eren's hand. “Jean was probably just trying to get a rise out of you. He's always been more outspoken than me. I just never knew how to bring it up without potentially hurting your feelings. As for how I feel about it?” he lowered his gaze, thick eyelashes brushing against his suddenly heat-flushed cheeks, “I like it. You'd look handsome no matter how much you weighed, but I think that being softer really suits you.”

“Really?” Eren repeated in surprise, a slow burning warmth replacing his earlier doubts, “You like that I'm getting a bit of a gut?” Though, judging by the fact that he could still see the curve of his stomach through the bed covers, it wasn't just 'a bit' of a gut any longer. 

“It's comfortable,” Armin protested with a small squirm, “It's nice to lie against at night. And it's cute.” He looked up to meet Eren's gaze, his fingers twisting nervously into the blankets. “It's... it's almost like proof that you're being taken care of. That someone loves you and is looking after you. I like that.” 

“You-” Eren began, a bright grin spreading across his face, “-are adorable. Armin, you can lie on my gut any time that you like. Consider it yours.” He reached out and hooked an arm about Armin's small form, guiding him back over to his side. Armin sank against him, slipping further beneath the covers. Strands of his hair tickled against Eren's belly as Armin setted against it. His head was a comfortable weight against him, no matter how full he might have felt. Eren leant back slowly against the pillows, his fingers tangling into Armin's hair. 

“How about we make a deal?” Eren suggested casually, looking down at his boyfriend, “Like I said, you can lie on me whenever you want. You don't even have to ask. But in exchange? He smoothed Armin's hair back from his face, trapping the strands with the flat of his palm. “Maybe you could wear your hair up more often? You always look really beautiful when you put it up.” 

“Huh?” Armin blinked at Eren, before a coy smile settled on his lips, “Well, okay. Of course. That's the least I can do.” 

“Thanks,” Eren moved his hand, Armin's hair falling stubbornly back into place over his forehead, “You do take good care of me.” He began stroking through Armin's hair, the soft locks slipping through his fingers. He had never been able to predict Armin's reaction in his mind, but his response had been better than anything he could have hoped for. Eren felt some of the tension, that he he hadn't realised he was holding, leave his shoulders. He sank further down the bed, taking care not to jostle Armin from his side. “I mean, you take _really_ good care of me.”

“Mm,” Armin hummed softly as he began moving a hand over the bulge of Eren's food packed stomach. Eren groaned at the deep sensation of pleasure that spread through him from that gentle touch. The warmth of Armin's hand was helping to alleviate the pressure in his belly, any discomfort that he had was meting away with each stroke of that tiny hand. “It shows,” Armin finished playfully, squeezing a roll of soft flab between his fingers, “I'm glad that everyone can see just how much I love you.”

“Got to agree,” Eren laughed as he pulled Armin in a little closer, “Given the size of me? You must love me an awful lot.”


End file.
